Then she had three more, but being first I got all of the really good genes and the others had to take the leftover crappy genes. That's why I'm so superior to everyone else. Then she went out and dropped me on my head.

Behold the wandering wayward Rap Who bids us kill the fatted calf By bringing home a load of crap TO make Mom swoon--but we just laff. We know his idle, wandering ways, We've copped his scam for many a week. And though barefoot he rambles off, He's just a barefoot boy with cheek.

John Blueballs WhatayearGreaves of Lass and other poems. Rochester, New York, 1911

I just rescued Mom from a seamy, steamy dive down by the waterfront. She was sooooooooooooo influenced by alcohol and bad companions that she was going to demonstrate her "table dance." I pleaded with her, telling her about the baby being sick and Amos dying and all that bull and finally I was able to fight our way out and take her home.

Please move silently around her today -- cheap rum and red wine should not be mixed with Four Roses, especially in the same flagon.

Gnu, twenty years ago today I was busy pushing and puffing to deliver a bouncing 7 lb baby boy into the world. It may be my son's birthday, but it's a day I remember for all of the work involved. Perhaps your mom tells you stories of the day you were born? I think my kids kind of enjoy those stories, if they aren't told too often.

It's okay, Amos. You can eat anyone's shorts you want to. They don't have to be mine because you're a big boy now and can make your own decisions. In fact, I'm not even going to tell you where I am, except to say that I'll be visiting Best Friends. They'd let you in too, only they might not let you back out.

I won't eat your shorts, Rapparee. Stop begging me. It is not becoming of an allegedly fully --or should that be foully?--grown man to give in so to such lowly obsessions, and I am not a good choice of participant in your perfervid but perverted schemes. The answer is no.

Have you talked to your wife about this strange impulse of yours? Perhaps she'd be willing to make some kind of accommodation.

Came by to see if that POS Ken had stopped by. Came with the dust and went with the wind............geeziz...............Just glad he didn't fall of the edge of the earth over there in Mississippi............

Well, Google translator said it was "Eat my shorts." I don't even know Pig Latin... don't even have the recipe. But my breaded fried pork chop recipe is deeeelicious. I prefer sirloin chops as I find they can be well cooked and still are tender while centre loin chops can sometimes be "touchy" to get juuuust right. Unfortunately, even though the sirloin are on sale at $2 a pound here, they are cut an inch thick or more... to get volume dollar sales I assume. Too thick for frying. Seriously... I saw some today that were close to 1.25". The nerve of the bastards!

1. Go get a goat. 2. Dump some olive oil and wine on it. 3. While you do that say, "This oil and wine washes away all my sins." 4. Drive the goat off into the wilderness and/or the MCRD (they're much the same). 5. Party like you're without sin. This gives you a chance to start sinning all over again.

I do far, far more than you think, Good Amos. Out here there are dragons to be slain, maidens to rescue, rings to toss into volcanoes, castles to besiege, naps to take, damsels in distress, and unicorns to barbecue. I spend my time in Doing Good For Others and Bringing Sinners To Repentance.

Actually, I shall be going into the desert and for a fortnight of fasting and prayer, praying for your repentance and the forgiveness of your manifold sins. You could at least thank me.

Waidaminnit, waidaminnit. Somp'n sure is fishy. Da Rapp, who claims to be retired, now claims to be bound out on vacation. Well that don't add up, do it? See, retirement is not something you can take a vacation from. So there's information missin' here, see whad I mean? Mebbe it has to do with those two large-headed dudes in baggy suits who called on His Booqieness just the night before he announced his imminent departure, ya think?

You're so close, if you want to swing by Texas on your vacation, Rap, just give me a call. It's only a 12-hour drive out of your way. I in the book. You know what town to enter, along with the name. I've love to see you guys. We have room, and can give you a Grand Tour.

I'm educated and educated too well, so I can read little Latin and less Greek. Amos' last sentence (which out of decency I shan't translate) would once have gotten him run through without the benefit of a formal duel OR clergy.

Rapparee has invited me to eat his suspenders, and threatens to exercise horrible things on me because I know so little. Ah, woe is me, that the wrath of such an erudite sop-wit should fall upon me. By the grace of our Mom, I swear I shall ne'er offend him again, but shall study hard to learn him in the ways of humility and thus defuse all offense.

Heeeheeeeheeee!! THere goes Rapparee! With a hasty explanation (Something about a vacation) Turns and beats his little feet In a hasty, grim retreat. Too much banter, too much guff Made him lose his vaunted stuff So he turned the volume louder, Turned and took himself a powduh.

Making tracks like desert thunder Rapp is off for over yonduh. Sad, that he our day should sweeten By this zealous quick retreatin' As though he felt he'd been beaten! But we will not lack for talk, Loud rebuffs and shallow squawk, 'Cuz we still have Little Hawk.

I can't believe I have been hard at work untangling unnecessary confusion all the day and here it is 2:30 PST and no-one has bothered to uplift our Mom with a sparkling insight or a scintillating rebuff. That faux-McGonagle rap really put a damper on the vibes around here, man.

That's almost as pathetic, strained, and far-fetched as an original MacGonagle, Rapp. Not quite, but close. It has the same fine earmarks of craft abuse which flag his finest work for instant ignominy.

I'm walking along that old, old trail Looking for a piece of tail. I shot a rabbit, but oh dear! I never thought that it was near The drop into the canyon deep So carefully down there I did creep To find the rabbit down there, dead But missing fur from its puffy head But then it was explained to me That the ears are where I thought the tail to be And as I wanted all the pelt (To sell it for some filthy gelt) So now I search this old, old trail For that missing piece of tail. --Patrick Terrence Seamus MacgonagleLyics for Grandpa (Dundee: Cork Press, 1894)

I too, rose before the sun, And shortly, had my work begun. And firmly turned my aching back On pillows soft at dawn's first crack. But started on my labors dirty While still the clock read Oh-Gawd-thirty. And now, although tis barely noon. I have my instruments well-tuned And filled the car and shopped for food, And written something fairly good. And as my afternoon's near free, Except for someone phoning me, I do expect my luck to bide, To go to bed full satisfied And picking dream-made gentle flowers, Reflect upon productive hours.